Her body detonated from where he was buried deepest outward, currents of release crashing through her, squeezing her around him, choking her shrieks.
Roaring her name, he exploded in his own climax, jetting the fuel of his pleasure over hers, filling her to overflowing, sharpening the throes of release until he wrung her of the last spark of sensation her body was capable of.
She felt him pulse the last of his seed into her depths, and a long-forgotten smile of satisfaction curved her lips as her head slumped in contentment over his chest...
A rumble beneath her ear jogged her back to consciousness. “Not enough, Isabella...never enough...”
Feeling boneless, her head spun as he strode away from the window, still buried within her depths. Knowing he’d carry her to his bedroom now, she drifted off again, wanting to rest so she’d be ready for round two...
She jerked out of her sensual stupor as he laid her down. His scent rose from dark cotton sheets to cloak her in its hot delight, compensating her for his loss as he left her body to rid himself of his clothes. Her clamoring senses needed him back on top of her, inside her. She held out unsteady arms, begged for him again.
This time he didn’t let her beg long. He lunged back over her, had her skidding on the sheets with the force of his impact. Spreading her quivering thighs, he pushed her knees up to her chest, hooking his arms behind them, opening her fully. Then, lowering himself over her to thrust his tongue inside her panting mouth, he reentered her in a long, burning plunge.
A shriek tore out of her as he forged inside her swollen flesh, undulating against her, inside her, churning soreness and ecstasy into an excruciating mixture as he took her in even more primal possession than the first time. He translated every liberty he was taking with her body into raw, explicit words that intensified the pleasure of his every move inside her beyond endurance. She climaxed all over him again, then again, eight years of deprivation exploding into torrents of sensation, each fiercer than the previous one.
At her fourth peak, he rammed her harder, faster, till he lodged into the gates of her womb, held himself there, roaring his release. Her body convulsed as she clutched his straining mass to her, her oversensitized flesh milking him for every drop of satisfaction for both of them.
At last, he gave her his full weight, which she’d always begged him for after the storm was over, his heartbeat a slow thunder against her decelerating one, completing his domination.
Always able to judge accurately when his weight would turn from necessity to burden, he rose off her, swept her enervated mass over his rock-solid one, dragging a crisp sheet over their cooling bodies.
She wanted to cling to this moment, to savor the descent with him...but everything slipped away...
* * *
Her mind a silent, empty scape, she tried to open lids that felt glued together. How strange. There’d never been peace after Richard...
Richard!
Her lids tore open, almost literally, and there he was. Illuminated by the dim daylight seeping in from the window of what she now realized was a hangar-size bedroom. He was propped up on one elbow beside her, looking down at her, his gaze one of supreme male triumph as he coated the body he’d savagely pleasured in languid caresses.
She was in his bed. She’d begged him to take her—repeatedly. If she could find her voice, she’d do it again right now.
“I didn’t intend to rush your pleasure the first...or subsequent times. I wanted to keep you hovering on the edge of orgasm so long, when I finally gave it to you, I knocked you out on the first try.”
“You did knock me out every single time,” she croaked.
“No. Knocked out as in nothing could wake you up for hours afterward. I did that the last time only.” He pinched and rolled one delightfully sore nipple, glided his hair-roughened leg between hers and pressed his knee to the soaked junction of her legs, dragging a whimper from her depth. “But no harm done. It’s time to savor driving you crazy.”
Her body clamored for him harder than ever. This addiction hadn’t subsided; it had gotten worse.
She caressed his face, his shoulders, his chest, reveling in the longed-for delight of feeling him this way. “Your efforts would be in vain. I’m already crazy for you.”
“I know. But I want you desperate.”
Before she could protest, his tongue thrust inside her mouth, claiming, conquering. His hands, lips and teeth sought all her secrets, sparked her ever-simmering insanities until he had her writhing, nothing left inside her but the need for him to finish her, annihilate her, leave nothing of her.
Clawing at him, crushing herself against him, she tried to drag him inside her. “Just take me again, Richard.”